


Four O' Clock

by SearScare



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearScare/pseuds/SearScare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy needs to get a hold of Annabeth's hat, the problem is, Annabeth doesn't like anybody else handling it. The only option left? To "borrow" it of course. One-shot. Set after The Last Olympian, disregards Heroes of Olympus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four O' Clock

**Four O’ Clock**

The silence of the Athena cabin is overwhelming and when he inches his way through the narrow gap between the door and frame he’s terrified that any moment now he’s going to stumble over something and cause enough noise to wake up not only the inhabitants of the cabin but also the whole camp.

He manages to get all of himself in without a problem though (two legs, two arms, two ears, one head—check) and at the entrance, he pauses, taking in the sleeping forms of twenty or so various campers who’ll _kill_ him if they wake up and find him on their sacred floorboards.

Speaking of floorboards, he’s pretty sure that the one on the third row, nine columns from the right is very creaky. Avoidance of that floorboard is a must. He stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out the badly drawn map he’d made several hours earlier.

He examines it carefully, holding it closer to one of the blinking lights of the closest Smart Board. He’d made a note of the positions of all the campers, including their closest weapons and other instruments of torture they have hidden under their bunks. After due consideration, he’d drawn the path he should adhere to—a path which will perhaps allow him to exit with the prize and all his limbs intact. He’d even made a contingency plan though it must be said that he doesn’t have much faith in it. Plans have never been his thing—and the one person whose thing it _is_ cannot be asked for help.

Nodding to himself (an action he thinks is giving him false self confidence) he goes through the steps one more time before folding the paper and stowing it back in his pocket.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles forward, counting the steps as he takes them. Three muted footfalls later, he’s adjacent to Malcolm’s bunk and can _finally_ see what he came for.

Annabeth’s Invisibility Hat.

The Hat which the Stoll brothers want, just for one evening in return for a hundred drachmas.

_A hundred drachmas._

He doesn’t really know why they want it and nor does he care but he can’t put the thought of so much gold out of his head. When they’d first approached him, he’d laughed outright. Steal Annabeth’s Hat? Yeah right, did they want him to go poke the Anthill with his sword too?

They’d persisted, each time raising the reward, till he’d (in a moment of weakness) agreed. The fact that Annabeth might eventually realize it was missing doesn’t really bother him—she’d never accuse him of theft and besides, the Stolls promised they’d return it to her, (claiming they _found_ it in the woods) after they’d finished executing whichever prank they’d come up with.

Even though he doesn’t normally believe the Stolls, he knows that this is one promise they intend to keep; no-one wants to be caught red-handed with Annabth’s Hat, especially not by Annabeth herself.

He groans inwardly. Why is he doing this again?

_A hundred drachmas,_ he reminds himself and pushes forward, keeping away from both the bunk along the walls and the floorboards in the middle—they latter had a tendency to be a little loose.

Moonlight shines through the windows, lighting up his way in patches. (The windows were strategically placed so that light entering didn’t fall on the camper’s faces.)

He continues onward, counting the steps as he goes and trying to contain the impulse which is telling him to bolt for the door. He’s faced the King of Titans and yet the thought of stealing his girlfriend’s hat is more frightening than all the encounters he’s had with Kronos.

Twenty steps in and he’s at her bunk. Right above her sleeping head, carved into the wall of the cabin is a niche where she keeps her various knick-knacks—including the Hat.

Sweat beads on his forehead despite the cool weather as he contemplates what he’s about to do. The night (or morning really, it’s four a.m.) is silent except for the steady breathing of all the people around him.

He’d chosen four am as time for his attack specifically. In a previous conversation with his girlfriend, she’d mentioned how the sleep cycle of a human was at its deepest at that time. The Russians especially had made full use of this and conducted all their unsavory operations at four in the morning. Even today, most retrieval forces conducted their raids at the hour.

He devoutly hopes that she wasn’t kidding when they’d had their conversation.

Steeling himself, he leans forward and reaches out with one hand. The Hat is easily within distance but the sheer fact that he’s steeling something very valuable, centimeters above his girlfriend, in a cabin full of very hostile campers is enough to make his insides tremble.

And then, just when he thinks all is well, his foot slips and hits the foot of the bunk in front of Annabeth’s.

The sound isn’t loud, in fact it’s a barely discernible _thump_ but to him it’s as good as a gunshot and he freezes in his tracks, glancing desperately over his shoulder to see if the inhabitant of that particular bed –Hugh was it? – is stirring.

Nothing moves.

He waits for ten seconds (holding his breath) and when he’s satisfied he’s not about to get knifed in the back he turns around slowly…

…only to find Annabeth’s gray eyes wide open and looking at him questioningly. Her hand moves in the next instant and before he knows it she’s holding a knife to his throat.

His heart slams to a stop and his insides go numb with fear. (He’s forgotten that he’s invincible of course)

Half a minute of silence passes as she regards him over the top of the blade pressing into his skin. Then, without any significant change in expression she withdraws the knife, slipping it back under the covers and raises a single eyebrow.

‘What,’ she begins, her tone distinctly suspicious, ‘are you doing here?’

He gulps and says the first thing that pops into his head, ‘I missed you.’

Her eyes narrow and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to bring out the knife again and gut him like a fish, but then she relaxes slightly, leaning back against the wall. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I uh… I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come visit.’ He says lamely and tries to stop his hands from shaking. She doesn’t reply, choosing instead to analyze him and even though his mind is fixated on the Hat, (which so near yet so far) he can’t help but notice how pretty she looks with her hair all mussed up and her eyes glowing in the dim light.

‘You know they’ll murder you if they wake up right now, right?’ She asks, referring with a brief wave to her various siblings sleeping around them.

_If only you knew._

He thinks but simply nods, taking the liberty to sit down next to her feet. Behind her head, he can see the bill of her cap and for a moment he considers grabbing it and then high-tailing it out of there. As tempting as the notion sounds, it’ll defeat the whole purpose of getting the Hat anyway. He needs to improvise.

She still hasn’t said anything and he thinks he sees her hands twitch in the direction of her knife. That, more than anything else, prompts him into action.

‘So, umm.. what’s up?’ he asks gamely, trying to figure out how he’s going to get past her, get the Hat and leave without getting himself knifed. Her mouths quirk in a very small grin but nevertheless, he takes it as a good sign.

_Now if only I could distract her…_

An idea pops into his head and in typical style; he doesn’t even consider the trouble he’s going to get into, before executing it.

Shifting forward, he presses down on her, sliding his hands past her waist and grabbing both her hands before she can:

a) Push him away.

b) Hit him.

c) Retrieve her knife and stab him in his Achilles spot.

She opens her mouth to object but before she can even start, he kisses her (quite forcefully) pushing her down into her pillow. She protets (probably from the surprise) but he holds her off easily, trying to remember where exactly the Hat is, in relation to him.

And then, just like before, his plan stops working.

Because she starts kissing him.

His brain stops functioning and proceeds into melt into his shoes as usual. Quite unknowingly, he presses down harder as she slides her hands under his T-shirt, digging her nails into his skin slightly. He nearly moans out loud but then remembers he’s surrounded by people who’d tear him apart if they woke up to find him making out with their eldest sister.

She disengages, probably to breathe but he’s _so_ not letting her get away that easily. Using both his arms he lifts himself off her, unfolding his legs from the end of the bunk and gazes at her in complete wonderment.

She’s smiling up at him, her cheeks flushed and her hair falling all around her face. Using one hand, he brushes it back and leans in to kiss her again, this time far less urgently.

Since his right arm is straining because of holding all his weight up, he makes a concession and folds it, allowing his right side to drop to the bed so that now he’s half-leaning over her. She helps, shifting to the left to make room for him and then with a wicked smile, pushes him down (just like he’d done earlier) with one hand on his chest.

He falls back into the pillows, open-mouthed as she climbs on top of him (still smiling) and reconnects her mouth with his so that their lips move in sync. He’s dimly aware of the fact that his hands seem to be running up and down all of her but he’s _very_ aware of the fact that _her_ hands are in fact making a definite journey downwards…

With a barely restrained groan he manages to grab them and sit up so that she ends up in his lap and they’re facing each other.

For a moment, neither of them says anything and the sound of their ragged breathing fills the fairly silent room.

He thinks it’s a miracle that her siblings haven’t woken up and caught them.

‘We need to...’ He starts, trying very hard to not think of the wonderful things they could have done if people weren’t surrounding them.

‘... get a room?’ She finishes, grinning so widely that he’s tempted to kiss her again. Very quickly he begins thinking about Medusa—yes, that helps.

‘Yeah.’ He agrees and then suddenly remembers he’s in Cabin Six for a reason. He knows that if he has to make a move, it’s now; this is the most distracted she’ll ever be.

‘So, umm, I think I’ll leave then…’ He trails off and very gently lifts her off him, maneuvering around so that his back is to the shelf which the Hat rests on.

‘And, I’ll... see you around?’ He gives her his best grin and in a single motion, swipes the Hat off, stuffs it into his pocket and stands up. For a moment, he swears he sees a flash of realization in her eyes as she shrugs and stands up, forcing him to back up a little, dangerously close to... Lou maybe? He should _really_ start learning the names of all her siblings.

‘Next time, try not to sneak in at four o’ clock in the morning.’ She admonishes him but he can see that her eyes are dancing with joy, so he makes a mental note to repeat the visit when her brothers and sisters aren’t around and maybe the next time he won’t have to worry about hats either.

The thought makes his knees go a little weak.

‘Anyway,’ He says, forcing his thoughts back to the present, ‘goodnight. I’ll see you at breakfast.’

‘Goodnight, Seaweed brain.’ She says affectionately and she leans in to hug him. He tries not to flinch, suddenly scared that with her weirdly perceptive powers she’ll find out that he has her Hat stuffed in his pocket. It takes all his courage to stand his ground and even hug her back, all the while praying to all the various gods he _hasn’t_ managed to piss off for some luck.

They must have heard him because she kisses his cheek and releases him, without saying anything else. His throat is so dry he can barely mutter a ‘bye’ as she yawns and slides back underneath her covers.

His heart hammering in his chest, he begins his retreat, forcing himself to not run because running would be suspicious and if it’s one thing his girlfriend’s good at it’s reading body language …—

‘Oh and Percy?’

He turns, forcing a bright smile on to his face.

‘Yeah?’

She smirks at him and from under the covers takes out a suspiciously familiar object.

‘Try and steal my Hat again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever be able to have children.’

He doesn’t even have to check his pocket again to know that the damn Hat isn’t there. She waves at him, still grinning enormously and with a sinking heart he decides that for now, he really should get back to bed. He can throttle the Stolls in the morning.

He waves weakly, and escapes as fast as he can.

      

 

   


End file.
